I would… but I’m an introvert

There seems to be an unspoken rule in modern culture: if you’re invited to something, you’re expected to go.

Sure, there are a few caveats. You’re grudgingly excused if a first-degree relative has been given three days to live. Or if you’re 8 months and 29 days pregnant and physically can’t fit behind the wheel of a car. And Ubers are surging at 4x regular rates.

Otherwise, it’s pretty much assumed you’ll make every effort to be there. With bells on. Lots of bells.

The problem, of course, is that some people just don’t love socialising.

Sure, a person might not be ‘otherwise engaged’ or violently vomiting their guts out on the night of a scheduled occasion. But when they’re naturally reclusive and have an appealing book calling them from their bedside table, the 28th birthday party of a distant acquaintance might just feel like a frustrating barrier to their pleasant evening plans.

Even seemingly appealing events can become unappetizing under the right circumstances. Dinner with good friends might sound like a celebration, but feel more like an obligation when you’re feeling a bit knackered.

Indeed, many of the introverts I know are so drained of energy by the time an event wraps up, they have to lock themselves in a quiet room for three days to mentally recover. Heck, as a fence-sitting semi-extrovert semi-introvert, even I occasionally pay an unnecessary visit to the bathroom mid-party, purely as an avenue to temporarily escape the hubbub.

So while social events are heralded as the desirable leisure pursuit… let’s be real. If you’re not a veritable extrovert — and sometimes even if you are — socialising can be hard work.

But we all hate to offend. And we certainly don’t want to be judged critically for not being ‘sociable’ enough to make the effort.

So when we get that invitation, we make the optimistic promise. Lock in plans. Say we’ll be there… and then apologetically cancel last minute under the guise of unforeseen illness.* **

And it’s sad.

As the invitee, it’s sad that we feel the need to cover up our introverted idiosyncrasies with falsified cover stories. And as the inviter, it’s sad that when we throw events, we buy enough food and drink for the 30 people who initially RSVPed yes… but end up feeding just the measly 15 who didn’t cancel last minute.

Something’s gotta give.

So hear this call to action. If I invite you to an event and you don’t want to come, tell me you won’t be coming. You might be important to me… but I promise I’ll be ok, even if you’re not there.

And if I tell you I won’t make it to your event… don’t feel obliged to dig around to find out why. And pretty please — don’t be offended.

Because it truly isn’t you.

It’s me.

* I’ve found this strategy to be particularly foolproof. Nobody wants you spraying your gastro-tinged mouth juices around the food table at a party, after all.

**Beloved friends; please don’t assume. Sometimes I am genuinely unwell!